Cunningham crouched at his shoulder and whistled softly. 'My G.o.d, we haven't a hope in h.e.l.l of moving that thing.'

He had stated the obvious and there was no answer. They moved back slowly and slumped down against the wall beside the entrance to the pa.s.sage.

Kane sat looking at the beam of the spot for a moment and then he leaned down and switched it off. 'No sense in wasting the battery.'

Cunningham laughed lightly and Kane knew that he was near to breaking-point. 'It's d.a.m.ned warm in here. I wish I had a cigarette.'

Neither of them had put it into words and yet it lay between them like a sword. The unspoken, undeniable fact that they were finished. That there was no hope left.

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The darkness settled upon them with a weightless pressure. Something seemed to move through it in a soundless wave and a strange, sibilant whispering echoed through the cave as if someone had sighed and the sounds were moving on for ever like the ripples in a pool.

Kane shivered and pushed the thought away from him. It was unhealthy to give way to despair too soon. He had to keep his mind active. He had to think of something other than this box of darkness.

He started to think about the past, letting his thoughts drift back, examining each milestone in his life, the good and the bad.

Only once before had he been in such a hopeless position. Second pilot on an Army Air Corps DCj flying to Guam in the Pacific. They'd come down in the Pacific, ten people, including pa.s.sengers, and one life-raft. Sharks nosing around within an hour. By the third day they were down to four, by the seventh day two, and just when he'd thought he was about to die there'd been a droning noise in the sky. He'd looked up and there it was, a Catalina coming in to land. Twice in his life Catalinas had been significant. One had saved him, the other he had destroyed.

And then home. He remembered that first day, flying into La Guardia and seeing New York again. But where was home? Was it an apartment overlooking Central

Park? Was it his father's farm in Connecticut? It was neither of these places. It did not exist in fact, but only in the heart, and he had searched for a long time, never finding, always seeking.

Marie's face seemed to flame out of the darkness at him and he laughed softly. At least one good thing had come out of all this. He knew now that she was important to him - more important than anything in his life. The thought of her was warm and comforting, rather like the kiss she had given him earlier, but he would never be able to tell her these things now.

He got to his feet to stretch his aching limbs, and a cold finger of air from the pa.s.sage touched his flesh, and he shivered.

It was a moment before its exact significance struck home and he dropped on his knees and searched in the darkness for the lamp. Cunningham blinked in the sudden glare. 'What's the matter?'

'There's a current of cold air blowing from the tunnel,' Kane told him.

Cunningham frowned. 'That's impossible. Where could it come from?'

'There's only one way to find out,' Kane said.

He explained the situation to Jamal in Arabic and then followed Cunningham along the pa.s.sage to the spot where they had finished work earlier in the day.

The Englishman dropped to his knees in front of the pile of rubble and stone that blocked the pa.s.sage and cried out at once, 'You're right, Kane, I can feel cold air on my body.'

Kane dropped down beside him and was at once aware of the pressure of air against his bare chest. 'One thing's for sure,' he said. 'Muller was wrong. Whatever else it might be, this isn't the entrance into a rock tomb.'

'Then where the h.e.l.l does it lead?' Cunningham demanded.

Kane grinned. 'To a better hole than this - that's for certain.'

Jamal had gone for the tools and now he returned, and Kane and Cunningham started to dig. The s.p.a.ce was confined and, after a while, the Somali pulled them out of the way to manhandle a large stone with his bare hands. A hole appeared and air came through in a sudden rush. Jamal carefully lifted several other stones out of the way and then he was on his belly and crawling forward. Kane held the spot on him and he and Cunningham watched the Somali vanish.

After a short time his head appeared and his mouth opened in a huge grin. He beckoned to them and Cunningham dropped to his stomach and crawled forward, followed by Kane.

On the other side of the barrier of stones, the pa.s.sage was clear, but the roof was considerably lower and they had to walk bent double. Kane followed the Englishman closely, holding the spot-lamp extended in front of him.

They came to the end of the tunnel and crawled out on a shelving bank of shale. It sloped steeply down for fifty or sixty feet into the dark, swirling waters of a river that welled up from the base of the cave and flowed out through a narrow gap between rocks.

Kane swung the spot-lamp in an arc. The roof was shrouded in darkness and must have been of great height, and the stone walls were black and grim and sweated moisture.

Cunningham squatted on his haunches, heels digging into the loose shale. 'There doesn't seem a great deal of choice, does there?'

'That about sums the situation up,' Kane told him. 'You wait here and I'll go back for the guns.'

When he returned, Jamal and the Englishman were at the water's edge, and as Kane slithered cautiously down the steep bank, the Somali backed slowly into the river, Cunningham grasping both his hands.

The water rose to his waist and then stopped. He advanced carefully, hands extended in front of him. After touching the opposite wall with his fingertips, he waded back, a broad grin on his face.

Cunningham laughed excitedly. 'It looks as if our luck's beginning to turn.'

'Let's hope so,' Kane said.

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He distributed the guns and gavejamal the spot-lamp. The Somali led the way and he and Cunningham slipped down into the water and followed.

It was bitterly cold, and after a while the water lifted to Kane's armpits. At first he held the sub-machine gun high above his head, but soon his arms began to ache with the effort and he slung it over one shoulder, allowing it to dangle in the river.

Gradually the current increased in force, as the gap through which the river was running narrowed. He was only a foot or so behind Cunningham and he could see Jamal in front holding the spot-lamp high out of the water.

The roof seemed to come down to meet him and he realized that it was only two or three feet above his head. He pushed furiously as the current lifted him and then he seemed to slide downwards in a rush and the water covered his head.

His feet touched bottom and he kicked upwards, then he surfaced to the light shining in his eyes and his knees banged against a gently sloping bank of shale.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving painfully. After a time, he realized that Cunningham lay beside him, and Jamal gave them a hand up and they stood knee-deep in water, shivering in the intense cold.

The river had emptied into a large round pool, and the only apparent exit, a narrow slot in the rock, was blocked by a wall of dressed stones, which stood some three feet above the surface of the water.

'This looks as if it's been here a h.e.l.l of a long time,' Cunningham said.

Kane nodded. 'But what purpose does it serve, that's the question.'

He took the spot-light from Jamal and pulled himself up on top. The wall was perhaps ten feet high, and water oozed through numerous cracks and ran down a steep incline, the sound of it echoing through the darkness.

'This must have been the route the river followed originally,' Kane said. 'The wall was placed here to change its direction.'

He shone the lamp down on the dark waters of the pool. That means they must have constructed an artificial exit for this lot.'

'But why?' Cunningham said.

'G.o.d knows. The reason isn't important now, but finding a way out of this place is.' Kane placed his submachine gun on the wall and gave Cunningham the lamp. 'Let me have as much light as you can. I'm going down to take a look.'

He dropped into the water, took a deep breath and went under. The pool was about ten feet deep, and the light from the spot-lamp filtering down enabled him to find what he was looking for almost at once. It was the entrance to a low arched tunnel some four feet high.